Chapter 8 - THE GIRL WHO NEVER EXISTED
We returned to the mansion through the underground passage.
Vincent insisted that Elena remain beside him, while Marcus brought a trusted medical team to examine her injuries. I refused to let Emma out of my sight.
She slept in my arms as we entered the library.
Elena sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, while Vincent paced in front of the fireplace.
"Explain what you meant," he demanded. "Another child?"
Elena nodded.
"Lily had a daughter."
I stared at her.
"Who?"
"We don't know her current name."
"How can you not know?"
"Because Margaret erased every record she could find. When Lily disappeared, her daughter was placed with another family under a false identity."
Elena looked at Emma.
"We believed the child had died. Daniel discovered evidence that she was alive, but he vanished before he could identify her."
Vincent stopped pacing.
"You're saying the child could be Claire's daughter?"
"I'm saying Emma may be connected to Lily. The DNA test will tell us how."
I thought of the crescent pendants, the matching photographs, the letter Daniel had left behind.
"What about the note saying the child must disappear before her fifth birthday?"
Elena's expression darkened.
"Margaret believed Lily's daughter would eventually inherit documents proving her crimes. The original records were sealed in the private archive. Without the child, she could claim that Lily had no surviving heirs."
"Then why hasn't she taken the documents already?" Vincent asked.
"Because the archive requires two keys."
Elena touched the small pendant around her neck.
"One belonged to Lily. The other belonged to her daughter."
I looked down at Emma.
Her little fingers curled around her own crescent necklace.
"No," I whispered.
Elena's eyes softened.
"Claire, I don't want you to be frightened. We still need proof."
But fear had already taken root.
A knock sounded at the library door.
Marcus entered carrying a man between two guards.
Anthony Moretti looked older than the photographs suggested. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and his right leg dragged behind him.
He looked at Vincent.
"You're alive," Vincent said bitterly.
Anthony gave a humorless smile.
"Apparently, so are you."
Vincent struck him once.
Anthony stumbled but did not retaliate.
"That's fair," he said.
"Where have you been?"
"Trying to keep Margaret from finding Elena."
"By letting me believe my wife was dead?"
Anthony lowered his eyes.
"I thought she was dead when I left the hospital. By the time I learned the truth, Margaret had already taken control of the family. She threatened everyone who tried to contact you."
"You could have told me."
"Yes."
The simple admission silenced the room.
Anthony looked at Elena.
"I'm sorry."
She didn't answer.
Then Anthony turned to me.
"Daniel trusted you with something. Did he ever mention a blue book?"
I shook my head.
"He left me a letter."
"Then he knew he was being watched."
Anthony explained that Daniel had uncovered evidence linking Margaret to a network of forged identities, stolen inheritances, and falsified death certificates. Among the victims was Lily, Elena's younger sister.
But one file had never been found.
The blue book.
It supposedly contained the original records identifying Lily's daughter and proving who had financed the attack eighteen months earlier.
"Where is it?" Vincent asked.
Anthony looked toward Emma.
"Daniel hid it somewhere only a child would think to look."
I remembered Emma's fascination with the locked sitting room.
Her habit of examining every object she found.
And the tiny brass key marked 417.
I hurried upstairs with Vincent and Elena following.
Inside Emma's bedroom, I searched beneath the bed, behind the toy chest, and inside the dollhouse.
Nothing.
Then Emma stirred in my arms.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"The sad lady told me where the blue book is."
Everyone froze.
"What sad lady?"
"The lady in my dream."
I swallowed.
"What did she tell you?"
Emma pointed toward the stuffed rabbit on the bed.
"She said the rabbit knows."
Vincent opened the toy carefully.
Inside the fabric lining was a tiny metal compartment.
The blue book lay within it.
Anthony stared at the cover.
"That's it."
Vincent opened the first page.
A list of names filled the paper.
Some belonged to judges, doctors, and business executives. Others belonged to people who had officially died years earlier.
At the bottom was a photograph of a young woman holding a newborn.
Elena covered her mouth.
"Lily."
Beside the photograph was a birth certificate.
The mother's name was Lily Moretti.
The child's name had been crossed out and replaced with a single word:
UNKNOWN.
Then Vincent turned the page.
A newer document had been slipped between the original records.
It was dated three days earlier.
It contained a photograph of Emma.
Beneath it was a typed instruction:
Confirm identity. Transfer custody before June 12.
My daughter's fifth birthday.
The signature at the bottom belonged to Margaret.
May you like
And beneath it, written in red ink, were three words that made my blood run cold:
THE GIRL IS MINE.
